Book signing
More leisurely day today, the island covered in low cloud, and rain. Richard and I slightly delicate (even for poets) this morning. Jane on surprisingly good form. Richard, retrieving the dogs from the kennel, dropped me in town and as the weather was not good, I sat in my usual cafe: the St Pierre by the old market, read my Guernsey Press (searching in vain for any mention of our book, weasels) and made some notes, even starting a poem about fog. Sipped cappuccinos, and sparkling water and trying to find a news item to discuss on the radio next week as I succumbed to a cheese and ham toastie.
Met Richard again, looking spiffy in the Pollet and we went to the Guernsey Press shop were there was a fine display of A Guernsey Double in the shop window. Old family friend Betty Tostevin was waiting for us impatiently when we got in, who gave me a firm kiss and bought a book. Otherwise a rather quiet book signing. Left to reflect how our publicity for this bit had gone wrong. However this did not puncture our feelings of big and cleverness, and we had a good laugh. Apparently Cherie Blair managed only to sell six or eight books when she came to Guernsey for her book launch.
A cuppa and a snack afterwards, and then Richard drove me to Les Douvres hotel in St Martins, where I had a relaxed afternoon, pottering about my parish in light rain saying hello to La Gran'mère and visiting Gwen and Dave, my grandparents, grave. My part of the book is dedicated to their memory.
Snoozed in the hotel for an hour, half looking at football, after what had been an tiring week. Annoyingly, Lorraine's flight was delayed, and I had to get very angry with staff at Le Douvres to ensure she had food on her arrival as the chef stopped at 9.00. A glowering beer after with much placating by staff, but all sourness this banished when Lorraine turned up all smiles in the pouring rain at about 9:30.
Below the press shop in Guernsey where we did our signing. Dave, my Grandad worked there once.
More leisurely day today, the island covered in low cloud, and rain. Richard and I slightly delicate (even for poets) this morning. Jane on surprisingly good form. Richard, retrieving the dogs from the kennel, dropped me in town and as the weather was not good, I sat in my usual cafe: the St Pierre by the old market, read my Guernsey Press (searching in vain for any mention of our book, weasels) and made some notes, even starting a poem about fog. Sipped cappuccinos, and sparkling water and trying to find a news item to discuss on the radio next week as I succumbed to a cheese and ham toastie.
Met Richard again, looking spiffy in the Pollet and we went to the Guernsey Press shop were there was a fine display of A Guernsey Double in the shop window. Old family friend Betty Tostevin was waiting for us impatiently when we got in, who gave me a firm kiss and bought a book. Otherwise a rather quiet book signing. Left to reflect how our publicity for this bit had gone wrong. However this did not puncture our feelings of big and cleverness, and we had a good laugh. Apparently Cherie Blair managed only to sell six or eight books when she came to Guernsey for her book launch.
A cuppa and a snack afterwards, and then Richard drove me to Les Douvres hotel in St Martins, where I had a relaxed afternoon, pottering about my parish in light rain saying hello to La Gran'mère and visiting Gwen and Dave, my grandparents, grave. My part of the book is dedicated to their memory.
Snoozed in the hotel for an hour, half looking at football, after what had been an tiring week. Annoyingly, Lorraine's flight was delayed, and I had to get very angry with staff at Le Douvres to ensure she had food on her arrival as the chef stopped at 9.00. A glowering beer after with much placating by staff, but all sourness this banished when Lorraine turned up all smiles in the pouring rain at about 9:30.
Below the press shop in Guernsey where we did our signing. Dave, my Grandad worked there once.
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